Chaos erupted.

Guns fired, wolves snarled, Iorek growled, and, with spectacularly good timing, the barracks burst into flame.

Throughout this, Lee Scoresby pulled Lyra down and half under him and held his gun as steady as he could over Lyra's shoulder. Lyra felt him over her, solid and safe, and rather wished she had an extra pistol for herself to keep and was secretly glad she did not. Because she had seen the man's head after Mr. Scoresby shot him. She did not see the leader when Mr. Scoresby shot him a second time, because she was already pulled down and the man's wolf was in the way. And then the man's wolf was not in the way because the wolf had blown out like a flame. And Lyra wanted to close her eyes and close her ears and huddle under Mr. Scoresby until everything was over. Only she didn't want Mr. Scoresby or Iorek to think her afraid, and so she kept her eyes open and crouched tensely and waited.

The retort of gunfire was impossibly loud. When Mr. Scoresby first taught her how to use his pistol, he made sure to stick wax in both their ears. She didn't have that now, and she felt half deafened. She did not want to imagine how Hester felt with her superior hearing. Along with that was shouting, words, and screams.

"Get the net! Get the…argh!"

"Fire!"

"Shoot it! Shoot it! Shoot 'em all!"

"Nets afire!"

"Zeppelin, Lee!

"Aaah!"

It was almost surreal how fast everything went off. Iorek burst into the stronghold, there was gunfire and flames and shouting but then…within minutes…silence.

All the survivors paused in that silence, not trusting the peace it held, waiting for another trick. Lyra stayed crouched, looking from her narrowed perspective from under Mr. Scoresby, feeling his arm resting on her shoulder, the one holding up the gun and using her to keep it steady. She could feel the heat of the man behind her, scorching hot, the heat of the gun, feel the tremble in his strained muscles. Then feet appeared in front of them, large, the white fur mostly hidden beneath the plates of protective armor.

"Iorek," Lyra whispered, not knowing if it was really safe yet, if it was okay to distract him.

"It is done, child," said the bear's deep voice. "It is done, Lee Scoresby. They are all dead."

"Oh," was all Lee Scoresby said, and then suddenly his weight was heavy on top of her, and she almost let him drop to the ground, but Iorek caught him before he could and together, as gently as possible, they lay him down. Hester nuzzled up against him instantly, trembling violently.

"Mr. Scoresby?" said Lyra, and she wasn't lying anymore, but suddenly she found she was trembling herself, and crying besides.

"We will help him," said Iorek. "Come. This is not a good place to stay."

That was certainly true. Quite aside from the numerous dead bodies about the place, the fire from the barracks roared itself into an inferno, while the remains of a large net caught another building alight, and the only reason they were not in danger was that everything around them was stone. The bear gently picked up the man and with surprising dexterity arranged him over his own back. The blanket was left behind and the state of the man's bare back was disturbing in the extreme; not an inch of it was unmarred and quite a bit of it was striped raw and bloody, and if it wasn't that then it was bruised deeply. Iorek reached for Hester next, but the hare shied away and then both daemon and bear froze. The bear withdrew his paw.

"Forgive me," said Iorek and Lyra waited, sure Hester would respond with something, maybe a 'no, I'm just jumpy, here, lift me up'. Lyra had seen the bear interact with both daemons a hundred times and never had either shown any care about touching him, nor did his touching Pan every disturb Lyra. Hester said nothing and did not move forward. If it weren't for Mr. Scoresby draped across the bear's back, Lyra thought Hester might actually have bolted.

"Let me, Hester," said Pan, hopping out of Lyra's arms and into the form of a chimp.

"I'm fine," said Hester, speaking at last, and then, sounding a bit embarrassed, "Boost me up, Iorek.

For a long moment, Iorek did nothing of the kind, simply looked at Hester, who sat with ears lowered, shaking minutely. Then the bear slowly, gently, brought his paw forward, with the armored side upwards rather than the open paw.

"Jump on then," he said, and Hester did, and just as slowly and carefully the hare was raised level with Iorek's shoulder. She hopped off quickly, almost too quickly, paws sliding against armor without real purchase, and Pan danced about under her ready to catch, but the hare didn't fall, and soon she was huddled against Lee Scoresby, as close as she could manage without aggravating any open wounds.

Behind them, with a roar, the barracks collapsed in on itself. Above them, the zeppelin bobbed, anchored by a rope. Lyra glanced up, suddenly worried there were more enemies in the sky. There was one. Was, being the key word there; he was hanging half out of the open hanger, rifle still twisted around his shoulders, eyes open and unstaring and dead.

"Come, Lyra Silvertongue," said Iorek. "I have a place ready." Pan leapt into Lyra's arms a hare again, and she hugged him tightly and she walked at Iorek's side. She felt strange, like in a dream, and almost feared her legs would not hold her up, but she did not dare tell Iorek that, because firstly he might think less of her, and secondly poor Mr. Scoresby was on his back and Lyra would just make things worse if she needed a ride as well.

"Get the pistol," Iorek said, just as he started leading her back out of the hole in the fence.

Lyra ran back and grabbed it. It had fallen on the ground when Mr. Scoresby collapsed. The blanket was there too, and Lyra's practical side said she should grab it too, but it was red with Lee Scoresby's blood and she picked it up and tossed it as hard as she could, in the direction of the still blazing fire. Something clattered loudly on the stones when she did. The shackles, still chained to the pole. And a key, one whose previous owner was lying nearby with his head blown away, not that Lyra knew that. She let those things lie and picked up the gun just the way Lee Scoresby taught her, never aiming it towards her friends or herself, and checked it for ammunition. There were no bullets left inside. Lee Scoresby had shot them all. Lyra closed it then and carried it at ready anyway and pretended like she was their rear guard as she ran and caught up to the others.

It felt truly dreamlike how one moment one could be sleeping in an enemies' den, and the next every last one of them was dead and they were free. She thought she would feel elation and satisfaction, but mostly she felt like all that lying had twisted things up in her and now she really was just a scared little girl.

And Lee Scoresby was not safe yet, not really, because someone who was safe did not have to be carried from the battle and not stir all the time they walked.

Iorek did not take them far, nor did he return them all the way to their old camp. He took them to a new one, one he had clearly taken the time to prepare as a sort of stronghold, much more secure than the flimsy walls of the human stronghold could ever be, because it was designed for a bear's sensitivities and so it looked natural and could be seen out of easily but not into, and reaching it involved going up a shallow stream first taking away the chance of their footprints or scents being followed.

Here Iorek crouched down for Hester to jump, and then with gentle care, slid the man down into a waiting mattress of pine needles topped with a large, soft sealskin. That had to come from their original camp, and in fact Lyra quickly noted several items that were theirs around. Iorek had been busy.

"What can I do?" asked Lyra.

"I will take care of Lee Scoresby and see that his wounds are cleaned and bound," said Iorek.

He clearly had more to say, but Lyra interrupted, saying, "I can help; I helped you, didn't I, I can apply the blood moss and…"

"Lyra." said Iorek, just her name, not even her surname, but it sounded so solid in his mouth that he managed what many scholars back in Oxford could only dream of, and instantly silenced her. Then he continued. "My focus will be on Lee Scoresby as I do this. Every man in that stronghold is now dead, but we do not know if there are others. There may be other dangers. I need you to keep watch, vigilantly, and if there is a hint of danger, alert me. Pan,"

Here, the daemon perked up. He was still a hare, perhaps in commiseration to Hester or perhaps he just enjoyed it.

"Hester's ears are phenomenal, this I know, but she is connected to Lee Scoresby and she will not be as alert as she might be."

"I can be alert as I need to be," Hester said, still huddled against Lee. Iorek ignored that and continued talking to Pan.

"I do not know how daemons work; if you have the same abilities while in the same form, but I ask you to keep your senses outward for danger, whether as a hare or in whatever form you feel will help the most."

"I'll stay a hare," Pan said. "I don't know if my ears are as good as Hester's, but I heard you coming."

"Then that will be good enough," said Iorek. "Remember, the both of you, I need your eyes and ears and noses outwards. Those men's sentries failed them when they allowed themselves to be distracted and turn inward. We will be smarter."

"We sure will," Lyra answered, determined, and she and Hester arranged themselves within the hideout into a sort of patrol around its edges.

Only then did Iorek approach Hester and Lee. Lee was starting to stir, just barely, making soft whimpering noises that would have mortified him were he awake.

"I need to strip away the rest of his clothing to assess him before I begin," Iorek said to Hester. "May I?"

"Help him," Hester said. "And don't mind me if I'm jumpy, just…help him."

Iorek nodded once, and then began. Had Lyra turned to watch him, she might have found it almost peculiar how gentle such a massive beast could be, how delicately he managed to manipulate the man so as to best strip him without causing undue discomfort. Lyra did not turn, though, taking her new duty very seriously.

Iorek was in the middle of bathing Lee as gently as a mother bear would her cub, and Lee was half waking up and making pained noises, when Iorek next addressed Lyra again.

"He is waking. What I am about to do will be painful. He may be disorientated. I have seen bears attack their caretakers in such instances. Perhaps if you spoke, he would hear your voice, and understand all is well."

For a moment Lyra did not have any idea what to even say. She wondered if perhaps she should try singing, but she had never had people who sang to her, soothing her sleep, and she did not think her own voice would soothe anyone. In the end, she did what she did best; she told stories. She told about Oxford, and the adventures she went on with Roger, and about finding out she had a mother. About finding out she had a father rather than an uncle.

All the while she talked, Iorek cleaned Lee Scoresby and applied bloodmoss in open wounds and a pulpy sort of ointment to the bruises, and wrapped bandages, around the open wounds but also tightly around his ribs after feeling the bones moving unnaturally when he tested them.

Lee Scoresby stirred as he did all this, at first not really coherent but reacting to the pain and discomfort by pulling away and letting out soft moans and whimpers and occasionally even a 'nnn' that might almost have been a no, and once a sharper yelp while Iorek was testing his ribs.

As the morning progressed, Lee Scoresby's coherency increased enough that he started gritting his teeth instead of voicing his pain, and by the time Iorek was applying bloodmoss to his knees (having already applied it to the more serious welts, and now finding every instance where the skin had broken up and down the man's body, big or small), Lee Scoresby was with it enough to protest outright.

"They're just scratches, they don't need tending," was the first words he had spoken for the better part of two hours. Lyra paused in her story, started to turn her head, but remembered her role as lookout and kept her gaze outward.

"That may be so," Iorek told Lee, "But your body is weakened enough as it is; already you have a fever. This will help, and it will not hurt."

"Listen to the bear, Lee," Hester ordered, not least because he could properly see Lee's knees like Lee could not (he had not gotten as far as opening his eyes, but went by feel), and his knees were not so much scratched as flayed raw; they had taken the brunt of his falls and being made to kneel on stone had done them no favors.

"Fine," said Lee, before turning his head slightly towards Lyra. He opened his good eye and looked her up and down, as though making certain of things, before saying, "And what did your ma do when she found you with the gyptians?"

"Oh," said Lyra, who had lost the thread of her story, which up to then had been a rather humorous tale of defiance and daring, explaining how she had slipped away from her mother's stuffy socialite soiree to attend a gyptian party, in a sort of reverse Cinderella move. "She laughed."

"And then got angry," Pan added, which was more than Lyra was going to say. She was trying to share her funniest, most clever stories so as to console Lee Scoresby, and her mother's changing moods were not funny at all, at least not the kind of funny a wounded man needed to hear about.

"Perhaps she got scared when she couldn't find you," Lee Scoresby suggested, closing his eyes and twisting his face in response to whatever Iorek was doing to his knee. He reached blindly until Hester was under his fingers and then he petted her almost aggressively, other hand digging into the seal pelt. "My ma gave me the scolding of my life after she saw me take a tumble off a cliff. Threatened to take her belt to me if I scared her like that again."

"I see your tendency to hurt yourself started early in life," Iorek said, moving momentarily from Lee's wounds to help raise his head and offering him a cup. "Here, drink this."

Lee accepted the drink, which turned out to be some kind of tea. He did not appreciate the bitter taste, but his lips and tongue greatly appreciated the wetness of it, and he gulped it down greedily. Iorek gave him some more, then laid him back again, and returned to tending to his knees. Lyra was silent during this exchange, so when she spoke at last, Lee could be forgiven for not understanding her question.

"Did she?"

"What?" asked Lee.

"Did she take her belt to you? Your ma?"

"Threatened every other day," Hester answered for Lee, "Only followed through the once."

"And we deserved it," Lee said, grinning like that was a happy memory, then grimacing because the present was full of pain. Then, "Did your ma…" Lee started to ask, but he stopped, not seeming to know how to finish the question."

"My mother never beat me with a belt," Lyra answered.

"She laughs," said Pan, "And then she turns around and gets angry, and I think she could do anything then. She doesn't need a belt."

"She wouldn't do just…just anything," Lyra protested. "She never hurt us. I been in trouble before many times in Jordan, and sometimes it would hurt for hours. She never did that."

"No one should do that," Lee said, grimacing this time for reasons completely unrelated to pain.

"Oh, it en't so bad as it sounds," Lyra answered, "the Master would never let anyone hurt me, not really. It just shows I got into good mischief; if I never got in trouble I think I would be ashamed."

"If you learn anything from Lee," said Hester, "It's that some trouble is best avoided."

"I'll bet you never avoided trouble in your life," said Lyra, her voice admiring.

Lee felt a sort of heaviness in his chest that had nothing to do with the cracked ribs or tight bandages. Tears were already too close for comfort, between the pain, and the way his body felt chilled and aching, and the way his mind kept running back over all that happened and suggesting whole new ways things could have gone wrong. So he did not answer, because would she still have that tone in her voice, that pride, like she thought him something wonderful, if he burst into tears on her?

"That en't a good thing, you know," Hester said dryly, not so encumbered. By her tone, she almost sounded completely at ease, as if this were any other day spent around the campfire, exchanging stories. Lee wasn't fooled by her tone though; she was still trembling minutely beneath his fingers. She was shaken too, but doing what she did best, distracting everyone else from their own troubles.

Perhaps Lyra had an answer to that too, but it was at that moment that their conversation was interrupted again.

There was an explosion.

It was not close, not in the camp, but loud and sudden, and it derailed any conversation that might have followed in favor of survival.

"Is it more bandits?" Lyra cried! "Are they exploding the forest trying to find us?"

"We left a fire behind us," Hester said. "Perhaps it got into the trees."

"I think a spark made its way to the barrels of oil meant to be used on me," Iorek said. "I feared this would happen. We must be ready to move fast, if the forest catches."

"Oh!" said Lyra, horrified, "And I thought the fire would help. I threw the sock line into the oven after everyone went running out when the zeppelin came. It's all my fault!"

"You acted just as I would have," Lee protested. Then, towards Iorek, low and serious, as though that would stop Lyra from hearing, "We should move. Fires come on fast. If we had my balloon…but it's no good wishing."

"Well," said Lyra, "But we have got a zeppelin, don't we? No, I guess we don't, because we left it by the fire. I guess it will explode next."

"I do not like this," said Iorek, but what he was protesting was unclear.

"We have to move," Lee insisted again, and he moved to sit up, but instead groaned and dropped back. This was particularly unfortunate because Iorek currently had him on his back (so as to see his knees, and really there was no good way to lay him that wasn't aggravating something), which meant his beaten back was what hit the ground. The skin and pine needles were soft, but nothing was soft enough as far as his back was concerned, and he let out a moan in spite of himself.

"The wind is in our favor," Iorek pointed out.

"The wind may shift," Lee protested, struggling to try and sit up again and failing, his strength leaving him fast.

"Lay back," Iorek ordered. "I will keep us safe."

"We keep each other," murmured Lee, doing as ordered in spite of himself. "Keep each other."

Iorek breathed in deeply, assessing his friend, tasting the air. The world smelled of pine needles and tea and medicine and blood and sickness and friends and, in the distance, smoke.